Splinched: The Life and Times of Tracey Davis
by Granny Adams
Summary: The musings of the reserved, concieted, and otherwise anonymous Slytherin female, Tracey Davis. Set in timeline of the Half Blood Prince.
1. Chapter 1

**Splinched**

The Life and Times of Tracey Davis

_By Granny Adams _

**I**t was suppertime, and I sat between Pansy and Millicent; Daphne a few seats down, determinedly not looking in my direction. We weren't on speaking terms anymore and yet, it was so early on in the year. We'd barely had time to grow weary of one another- it must've been a new record for the both of us.

It was the first week back at Hogwarts and everything was reasonably ordinary, or so it seemed from the Slytherin table's perspective on the Great Hall. The room was bustling with activity, as it tended to do when every entity alive (and dead) in the castle occupied it simultaneously. I could see the Golden Trio from across the room; although it seemed as if I was sitting in their laps- their body language was so _transparent_. All huddled together, they were most likely conspiring to break more school rules, as per usual. Most of the noisiness seemed to emanate from the Badgers- nothing new there. The Ravenclaws, our neighbors in the Hall, were also up to their usual activities: those concerned and informed Ravenclaw discussions. Each Claw talked as if they had a terrible new revelation that they, with furrowed eyebrows and lofty expressions, would bestow upon their housemates.

I only say that it was _reasonably_ ordinary because, at about that same time the year previous, life outside Hogwarts had been a different entirely. The entire Wizarding World was on the Brink of War, we were told. A new Minister of Magic had been sworn in not a month before. And at whole, the return to school was a little less animated, a little less carefree than I had remembered it to be in the past.

I didn't really consider the events that had transpired over the months leading up to that very moment 'ordinary' by _any_ standard. However, it seemed that life could've potentially gotten more unusual at the drop of a wand, and so, I resolved myself to not worry quite so much and to focus on the life _I_ led. My school days were somewhat fantastical in that they were so far removed from the actual world, the 'real' world that we simply glimpsed into from time to time, but otherwise would ignore. I had my distractions, after all.

Watching Pansy and Millicent eat was interesting in its own right. Pansy would shuffle her food around in her plate with her fork while she talked, occasionally spearing a small sprig of lettuce and chewing it delicately, all the while brushing her auburn hair behind her ears with her free hand. She claimed that she had been on a diet since the beginning of summer holidays and it really showed. The year before, I had considered her plump, but that year she miraculously went down three dress robe sizes. I wondered if she'd sold her soul in order to become that thin that quickly, because otherwise it was a sheer impossibility. Perhaps in return for her new, lean body, she gave up her _wit_. She had lost her edge, if you asked me. Draco, who was sitting directly across from her, seemed to be enjoying the transformation. Maybe having her on his arm at a formal function wouldn't have been quite as embarrassing any more.

Millicent, however, ate with no apologies. She formed a pile of all the food on her plate, compressed it onto her fork using her knife to pack it all in and then ate it. At least she chewed with her mouth closed. Funnily enough, Millicent looked much thinner as well, though I couldn't find anything unnatural about it. She had undergone serious Quidditch training all summer in hopes of making the house team ('_How mannish of her'_, I thought). She was far more muscular and healthy looking than Pansy. But then again, she still had that awful, masculine bone structure. Her cheek bones were more prominent than ever and '_Gracious!_ _Did I detect a bit of color on those cracked lips? Millicent Bulstrode wearing lipstick, who would've thought? And more importantly- why?'_

I considered neither of these girls attractive, but then again, I tended to hold people to impossibly high standards. Even my 'dearest friends' weren't safe from my inevitable, silent judgment.

Funny, I almost forgot to disclose some of the most _important_ things about myself; the sort of basic information that exists only on your apparition license.

The introductory monologue goes something like this:

"My name is Tracey Anne Davis and I am a sixth year in the Slytherin house at Hogwarts. I am sixteen years old and am turning seventeen next August. I am currently without a boyfriend and wish to discontinue this negative trend in my life. My best mate _was_ Daphne Greengrass before she and I got in _another_ fight, this one being equally _ridiculous_ to the other ones. Daphne and I have been close since the third year, but I hope to end this three year mistake for good. Explaining Daphne is.. very difficult, you see, because she's such an _intriguing_ character. _Intriguing_she may be, but she's an appalling friend and a _mar_velous phony."

Dinner soon ended, and everyone stood up to leave at once, creating quite the blockade. I strategically stepped behind Goyle, who shoved his way through of the crowd with ease. I could hear the squeals of children who had been crushed by my hulking housemate. As we shuffled along, another housemate of mine, Theodore Nott, appeared at my side, apparently using the same tactic as I.

"Have a nice summer, Tracey?" He inquired politely, pushing a Ravenclaw second year out of his way. He'd had a nice summer, or so I assumed. He'd returned with a new sort of rosy-ness about him, as if he had found a few answers over the summer and was brimming with new energy. Of course, this was all just a speculation, but mostly I have a knack for these sorts of estimations. Nevertheless, he seemed genuinely pleased to see me, which was, of course, a flattering gesture.

I responded with a modest smile, "It was lovely. And yourself?". He returned the smile with a brilliant, shining grin.

"Mine was _excellent,_ thank you," he paused to dodge around another body. By then, we had reached the vast oak doors that lead out into the main corridor. "Well, Tracey, I must go. It's very nice to see you again, perhaps we can talk later." I nodded. He bowed his head, and slipped away to a stairwell that lead upstairs, which seemed to be exceedingly strange since, as most know, our Commons are located in the dungeons. Before I spent too much time wondering, Millicent Bulstrode appeared at the top of the stairwell. How had she gotten out so quickly? Why was Theodore dashing up to the second floor to meet _her_? I continued staring incredulously at Theodore, who smiled as Millicent greeted him. Before my mind imploded from the sheer enigma, I turned away, fearing Millicent would catch me gaping at her. Instead, I looked to the stairwell down to the dungeons, and at that very moment, Daphne stomped past me with her nose in the air, pretending as if I didn't exist. '_How mature'_, I thought bitterly, watching her wave to someone and disappear from my line of sight.

'_She never did tell me what she had gotten on her O.W.L's. I'll probably never find out at this rate_,' I thought, '_She must've done awfully.'_ I smiled to myself, but then after considering it for another second, the smile melted off my face. For someone I wanted nothing to do with, she still managed to make me exceptionally gloomy when I realized she wasn't my friend at the moment. I attributed this to the sheer habit of our friendship, but once I could rid myself of this habit, she would no longer trouble me. _'And all of this over Adrian Pucey telling her to shut up. Pathetic.**'**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Splinched**

The Life and Times of Tracey Davis

_Chapter Two_

By Granny Adams

**M**y sister, Allison, is ten years old. Yet somehow, she is far more emotionally advanced than I was at age thirteen. I'm not quite sure how it happened, as she and I are extremely similar. She is the spitting image of me at ten, with a few variations. We have the same figure. She has smaller eyes than I do, and her chin is wider. I think she's lovely, but she doesn't really seem to think so. The odd part is that she doesn't mind thinking of herself as plain. She's perfectly content with herself- something hard for me to grasp.

Another deviation between her and I is that she, unlike me, is quite graceful and excels at ballet. Because of our body-types, we were both trained from our tender years in ballet. I was awkward and gawky, I couldn't do a split and I couldn't pirouette. My mother was heartbroken; she had always wanted to be a ballerina herself. Instead, she instilled in me her sense of fashion and ladylike behavior. When my sister was born, she had little hope for her second daughter, but was pleasantly surprised when my sister showed an innate ability where I had failed.

In the coming year, my sister would join me here at school. Mother expected that she kept up with her flexibility and strength whilst she was here. Her summers would be spent in intensive Pointe classes. I was to make certain that she did what mother wanted of her. I had really wondered how she'd fare once she arrived and how she'd react to my insistence that she follows mother's demands. If she turns out anything like me, the idea of being granted a new freedom and then having it stolen away must've been unbearable.

"Tracey," A female voice called from behind me. I had almost made it though the common room without being bothered, but obviously that was too much to ask. I reluctantly turned, putting on a false smile. It was Pansy. Apparently, she and Draco had detached from each other, but I attributed this to the fact that the Girl's and Boy's dormitories were on the opposite sides of the room. As a matter of fact, I could see him eyeing Pansy's arse triumphantly from across the room. _Honestly_.

"You really hurried out of the Great Hall, why didn't you wait for me?" She asked, raising an eyebrow. I brushed the hair out of my face and tucked it behind my ears.

"I didn't want to get caught in the crowd, that's all," I replied honestly. Pansy looked at me as though she knew that she had caught me in a lie. She always acted as though she knew me better than I knew myself. It was extremely infuriating, but oftentimes eerily accurate.

"Oh, I see," She raised her perfectly groomed eyebrows, "I thought you were running after Daphne," She laughed, "But I suppose that it was just my imagination." I shrugged.

"An innocent mistake," I said, smiling. If my expressions were to reflect my true feelings, it certainly wouldn't have been a smile; perhaps it might've been closer to a snarl. But then again, I wouldn't want to get on Pansy's bad side.

"I did see you talking to Theodore Nott, however. That was real, wasn't it?" She asked, looking a little more earnest.

"Yes, I was. He asked me how my summer was," I told her, folding my arms. After so many years of practically idolizing the girl, I could read her like a book. It was obvious that she was insinuating- a skill of hers _almost_ unrivaled.

"Did you know that he and _Millicent Bulstrode_ are _dating_?" She asked, sliding into that tone she takes whenever she gossips. I furrowed my eyebrows. She had to be joking, right?

"Really?" I asked, trying to keep my voice pleasant. This information altered my entire view of the universe. Theodore Nott, the suave boy with a secret dating Millicent Bulstrode, the plain jane- Wha? What was the world coming to? How could this have possibly happened under my very nose? What could this _mean?_

"Yes, really!" She said quickly, "Urquhart told me this morning-" She suddenly stopped speaking as Millicent Bulstrode passed by. She gave us a furtive, yet condemning glance and then continued on her way to the dorm.

She seemed so unworthy of a gentleman such as Theodore. He was from one of the finest families in Britain. Apparently, she descended from a well-known ancestry in Russia. Probably from a better family than I; The Davis' would be considered 'new money'. But she was still _Millicent Bulstrode_, the girl who only spoke in grunts until the fourth year except to coo and cuddle her _cat!_ This was the girl who rarely wore any other _clothing_ besides her school robes!

We both watched as she disappeared, but I wasn't able to tear myself away before Pansy started talking again. "So anyway. Gregor told me that someone he knows found a love letter from Theodore to Millicent that Millicent had been left in the common room!"

"Hm," I said indecisively, looking back to Pansy. It wasn't a credible piece of information, but it did explain a lot. For example, Millicent generally remained silent (unless provoked) but in a sort of menacing way. To be completely honest, I was afraid of Millicent for the first few years of school- after she threatened to _sit_ on me, that is.

More recently, she had an aura of contentment surrounding her as she walked around, it was in the way she held herself. Also, when a first year stepped on her toe on the second day of classes, she didn't lash out at them like she normally would. It would also explain the poor excuse for lipstick she was wearing at supper... Good god, could this actually be true?

"All you have to say is hm? I thought you would find it a little more interesting," Pansy said, acting as if my response was utterly boring to her.

"I do-" I said hastily, "It seems as though it isn't the entire truth, though. Do you really believe that they're dating?"

"I don't know, but that's what's been going around," She paused and leaned towards me conspiratorially, "Also what's been going around is that Adrian Pucey has a bit of a thing for you." For a moment, I stood motionless- I simply didn't know how to react. When you're told that someone fancies you, it's as if you've been hit by a stunning charm- especially if that someone is a person whom you've barely spoken five words to.

"Oh?" I said, looking away for a moment, attempting to regain my composure, "Where'd you hear a thing like that?"

"From Daphne," She said, watching for my reaction. I uncrossed my arms to smooth out my skirt. Why would Daphne tell her that? I was sure that's what she wanted me to ask. I refused to take the bait. More insinuation of course.

"I don't think so," I said resolutely, with nothing further to add.

"Alright, then," Pansy said, bored again.

"Well, I wouldn't really know," I exhaled deeply, "Perhaps he does. Anyway, I'm going to the dorm." I began to walk away, but stopped when I noticed that Pansy wasn't following. "Aren't you coming?" I asked. She was looking across the common room wistfully.

"No," She replied, "I'll catch up with you later." I turned and walked through the door. I stopped before I descended the stairs, looking over my shoulder at Pansy. Now that I had gone, she didn't hold herself the same way. She looked slightly awkward and small, not at all what she'd like herself to be viewed as. I stopped for a moment, still watching her as she shifted her weight, craning her neck to have a better look at the other side of the common room.

_'To look almost pretty is an acquisition of higher delight to a girl who has been looking plain for the first fifteen years of her life than a beauty from her cradle can ever receive.'_

Lost her touch, indeed. I continued down the stairs, hoping that I wouldn't be alone with Daphne in the dorm. But, oh, no I wouldn't be alone. Millicent was down there too! Simply marvelous! The irony of it all nearly killed me, but luckily I made it to my dorm alive.

-

I had thought that living in close quarters with Daphne would be more or less painless, despite our conflict. I was, of course, incredibly wrong and naïve to think that. We have certain personalities that, when in a conflict, make things really difficult for each other. I found it incredibly uncomfortable and deafening to remain in the same room with her, if only to complete a trivial task.

It was almost like being in love; when she entered a room, it was as if my entire body could feel her presence. So when I finally found myself at the door dormitory, I knew instantly that she was inside.

I took a swift breath before going inside the dorm. Turning the doorknob slowly, I let the door swing open as softly and noiselessly as I could. I didn't want to bring attention to myself, especially after I had just had a nice gossip session about the two people that were inside. The door was ajar, and I stood frozen in the doorway. The second that I had opened the door, Millicent and Daphne looked up from whatever they had been doing the moment before. Of course, as soon as she had glanced up, Daphne's attention went right back to the piece of parchment on her lap, as if I wasn't even standing there. Millicent took a bit longer to assess my existence before she looked away again. I felt the familiar wrenching sensation in my stomach as I walked past Daphne's bed to reach mine.

As I bent over at my bedside table to look at my reflection in the small mirror I kept there, I heard the curtains of Daphne's bed being hurriedly drawn. I looked back to see if Daphne's curtains were indeed closed and instead found Millicent's gaze. She must've known that Pansy and I were talking about her, judging from that cold stare. I looked back to my mirror as soon as our eyes met; an action that must've set my guilt in stone. If the entire year was to be like this, I really didn't know how I would endure. Disregarding the fact that I was still wearing my full uniform, shoes and all, I climbed into my bed and closed the curtains, isolating me from a dormitory that clearly loathed me.

It was apparent that I was going about things in a wrong way, considering how I had created two new foes in the one week- possibly three if I had interpreted Pansy's insinuations correctly. There seemed to be two options: Either I changed my ways, whatever they had been or I would end that term completely friendless and lonely. Or, I considered, therewas always the choice of making new friends. That might be worth a week of my time. Who could I possibly befriend in a week? The impossibility of the situation almost deterred me, but then I thought about my current associates. It simply had to be done.

New friends, or certain death.

* * *

(Just to give proper credit, the quote in italics near the end is by Jane Austen. REVIEW PLZ)


	3. Chapter 3

**Splinched**

The Life and Times of Tracey Davis

_Chapter Three_

By Granny Adams

**O**n the rainy day that followed, I had no classes for the remainder of the afternoon. So rather than waste the day away in my dorm, where plausibly I could be alone with Daphne, I chose to spend my time in the common room. I brought along all of my school work, most of it due at the end of the week- needless to say, it wasn't very pressing that it be completed. Apparently, many of my housemates had the same time free from classes, the common room was busy with people. I had no choice but to sit in one of the enormous, black armchairs that was isolated from the main cluster of chairs.

It was _almost_ funny, imagining myself from someone else's line of vision: gawky girl wearing white sweater, completely engulfed by immense black chair. The humor gave way to sadness as a particular loud burst of laughter came from the cluster of people sitting near and around the fireplace.

There really was nothing more uncomfortable than having to enlighten an acquaintance that 'you and a certain other person aren't on speaking terms with each other'. Not only did that person walk away, embarrassed for bringing up a delicate subject, but you then were reminded of another unpleasant detail about the sad little life you lead.

The only reason I bring it up is because that sort of situation seems to have been magnetically drawn to me. I suppose over the years that Daphne and I had been so inseparable that I was considered her 'keeper'. I couldn't even count the times that someone had approached me about reminding her that "she owes 5 sickles", etc. Then, I calmly, almost automatically, would tell them, "She and I don't speak to each other any more. We haven't in about 2 ½ weeks and I don't see that changing in the foreseeable future._ So sorry_ that I couldn't be your personal tax collector!"

Of course there was that to keep me good and depressed, and then there was being around the person I was in a fight with almost twenty-four hours a day. That also proved quite painful. The same classes, same friends, same dorm.. Oh, there was all that and _then_, the absolute pinnacle of my existence, being pursued by the same boy that this ex-friend of yours' had been in love with since before the summer holidays.

As you might have already guessed, I'm not being hypothetical in the least bit. Quite literally, that was my life. It's a rotten reality.

I had absolutely no one to consort with. The whole 'new friends or certain death compact'? Well, it hadn't exactly happened quite yet- I'd actually been keeping up with all of my school work, just to spend all the free time. What a sad, pitiful creature I had become.

I forced myself into doing my work on my lap, since the nearest table in the Common room was being used as a footrest. I couldn't see who the feet belonged to, just long, trouser'd legs crossed leisurely, resting on the tabletop. I decided to start with the charms paper, due this coming Friday. It wasn't a large assignment; as far as N.E.W.T's charms was concerned, it potentially could've been far worse. I uncapped my black ink, setting it on the arm of the chair, precariously wobbling before settling down. It would've tipped over at the slightest vibration, so I was careful to hold it when someone came tromping by. I used my charms text as a surface to write on. I was ready to dig in to this essay.

A few sentences into my paper, there was a huge pounding noise, and the vibrations that accompanied it. I reached for my inkwell on the arm of the chair without looking, but it was noticeably absent. The ink had already fallen and spillt onto the chair, sending specks of ink onto my pristine sweater. I exhaled deeply, reaching down for my bag. What fucking dolt had jumped, I wondered. Anger poured into my chest as I began to root through my bag, feeling for an object long and wooden. I would have to deal with Sir Idiot (or Dame Idiot-ess, perhaps) had done that after I cleaned the spill. I did not expect to feel a meaty finger jabbing my shoulder a moment afterward. I looked up enough to see that the pair of trousers taking up the coffee table had come over to talk to me.

"Hello," the Trousers said suavely, and I tilted my head up. A mostly unattractive boy with pale and lifeless eyes was staring down at me. "What're you doing down there, Tracey?" He said, in a remarkably condescending, yet incredibly stupid, voice. Of _course_, Adrian Pucey felt as though it would be entirely appropriate to come and speak to me after the scene on the train. Did he really set out to ruin my life, or was I just being paranoid? I was sure it wasn't the latter.

I sat up, wand in hand, my sweater still saturated in ink. "Nothing at all," I replied cautiously.

"What happened to your shirt, there?" He inquired most unceremoniously, pointing at the largest globule of ink which, funnily enough, happened to be situated right upon my _bosom_, for lack of a better term.

"My ink fell," I answered simply, due to the fact that I was so furious, so stunned that he would- what an insolent, cheeky thing to- how dare he actually..

"You got to be careful about that," He wisely noted, "Is it dried yet?"

"No, I don't think it _has_ dried yet," I said in return, practically biting my tongue to keep myself from correcting his poor grammar, all the while keeping my gaze away from my own chest, because obviously, that's what he intended for me to do.

"Oh." He seemed to be straining to find something else to say, his mind running through his database of pathetic pickup lines- or maybe _words_. I continued looking at him, waiting for him to either speak or leave. Didn't he have enough sense to realize that I clearly did not want to speak to him? Was he receiving the nonverbal cues that I wished to be left alone- or was he really that daft?

"So, ehm.. You know, uhhh, even with all that ink on your top, I think you look really beautiful." Apparently, he _was_ that daft.

It was so appropriate that, at that exact moment, Theodore entered the Common Room. He appeared to be heading for his own dormitory, but he must've seen Pucey standing over me, and my white sweater desecrated by my own ink. He must've seen the uncomfortable expression written all over my shrinking body, because he smiled at me, and bit his lip in a sort of grimace. Shortly after, Millicent, too, entered the Common Room and went toward him. His attention shifted immediately from myself to.. his _girlfriend,_ whom he gave a _peck _on the _cheek_ before walking off.

It was all so ironic and perfect that it nearly made me sick- how absolutely correct Pansy actually was. About everything.

_So this is my life, then. This is how I am to live._

I snapped back to the conversation in which I was, grudgingly, a participant.

"Thank you, I'm very flattered," I told him mechanically, in a voice completely unknown to me.


	4. Chapter 4

**Splinched**

The Life and Times of Tracey Davis

_Chapter Four_

By Granny Adams

**A**ges, perhaps several eternities later, I found my wand and ran off as far away from Adrian Pucey as I could manage. A large part of me wanted nothing more than to flirt up a storm with him, if only to spite Daphne. That part of me would've won over too, had it not been for my better judgment. No matter how much I wanted vengeance- justice in its purest, most unadultered form- for everything that Daphne had ever put me through, the truth remained that Adrian Pucey was a disgusting mess and I just couldn't bring myself to think of him in romantic fashion.

Many may wonder 'What is so bad about Daphne?', after all; I was technically the villain in the situation. Daphne fancied Adrian and he only had eyes for me. I should've told him right on the train that I had no interest in him. In my own defense, I will say that the incident on the train was quite thorny and that I was in no way prepared to deal with it.

For clarification's sake, and for posterity, of course, I will record the events that transpired. It went as follows:

Daphne and I, along with two fourth year Ravenclaw girls, were seated in the same compartment. Why we were in a compartment with two perfect strangers, I don't know. Circumstance had fated it that way, apparently. I did not know these two other girls- I think Daphne might've known them though, but frankly, it's really quite immaterial to the story. Just know that they were there. So, whilst we and the Ravenclaws were healthily ignoring each other, Daphne and I were catching up. We had seen one another exactly twice; once at the very beginning of the summer hols, and then a few weeks after that. From then on, we mildly corresponded via owl post. Certainly, that was no way to communicate completely and apparently, there was much gossip to catch up on by September the first.

We discussed how Gregor Urquhart was most likely a homosexual, this stemming from a story she told about how she and him went out to lunch. I think it had something to do with the fact that he started tittering madly and practically drooling over her shoes, although he may just have a vigorous appetite for fashion. Come to think of it, she was the one that suggested that he was gay, not me. I don't think it's possible, really. I mean, I've heard loads of stories about him and considerably younger students (girls, I might add). And he plays Quidditch, it just seems very untruthf- well, anyway.

After exchanging that bit of information, Daphne told me that she had other things to tell me, other things that she was not at a liberty to share with anyone besides me. So at that point, we left the compartment so that the two Ravenclaws wouldn't overhear. I never actually heard this fascinating bit of information, as just as we walked out, Adrian Pucey and Clem Warrington came by and insisted that we join them in their compartment. As previously stated, Daphne fancied Adrian and as such, it was my duty as a friend to accompany her. I had _never_ spoken to Pucey before in my life- just a note.

Pucey slid the compartment door open smugly, and inside were Nicholas Vaisey and Gregor, two Quidditch-playing fifth years. Bear in mind that these compartments can house four relatively small girls comfortably. We were now six, although with the sheer bulk, it was more like eight people. Gregor, being the gentleman that he was, stood and let me take his seat. Daphne sat on Pucey's lap. Have I mentioned that she isn't the _chastest_ person to ever attend Hogwarts?

Needless to say, it was.. quite the situation to find oneself in. I sat closest the window, crushed between Gregor's legs and Warrington, who sat next to me, while Daphne sat on Pucey's lap. Vaisey, thank mercy, sat across from me rather than next to me. Vaisey doesn't seem to be the most 'sanitary' person, which is a nice way of saying that he is a complete slob. I'm not sure if he smells, but I wasn't eager to find out.

It was all quite strained. Daphne was keeping herself occupied by playing with Pucey's hair while whispering things to him, though he didn't seem very interested at all. I made polite conversation with Gregor, who didn't seem homosexual in the least. Vaisey and Warrington were having some sort of staring match. This continued for a little while, punctuated by small fits of giggles coming from Daphne. It was during this period of time that I first noticed Pucey looking at me.

He was the one that started it all, really. He caught my eyes a few times and must've taken it as a 'go-ahead', because he proceded to ask me how my summer was, completely ignoring Daphne. I responded curtly, that it was well, thank you very much. Daphne then tried to talk to him again, but he shushed her and kept looking at me. By this time, Vaisey and Warrington had stopped their staring contest and were now focused on the interaction taking place. Daphne wasn't too happy to have been shushed, in fact, she wasn't pleased about not being the center of attention either. My eyes flicked between Pucey and Daphne's increasingly resentful expression. I could almost see what was flashing across her mind, the different strategies she could use to win back the interest.

"Oh, Adrian, I hear that Quidditch will be simply wonderful this year!" She quickly added during what would've been a slight pause in conversation.

"Yeh," he said lamely and then returned to me. At that point, Daphne must've found that it was necessary to make a scene, because all else had failed.

"HOW DARE YOU DISREGARD ME!" She shrieked. All eyes snapped on her, including Adrian. He must've been fed up with her, so he, and these were his precise words, told her "Bugger off, you monkey". I couldn't help but let out a bit of a chuckle- primate was a shockingly accurate way of describing her physique. I don't mean to say that she is _ugly_. But her eyebrows are rather dense and dark, her nose is sort of short and high up, which in turn makes her upper lip seem sort of flat and protruding. She has long brown hair, mud-brown eyes and her general appearance is rather _hairy_.

Unsurprisingly, she didn't take it well, not well at all. She gave me the ugliest glance ever assembled and took off, slamming the compartment door behind her so hard that the windows rattled. I wanted nothing more than to go after her, but it just seemed wrong, so I didn't. I rode the rest of the way with the four boys.

Perhaps I should've followed her and apologized right then, because waiting it out was certainly a horrible idea- thus, what could be observed from then on in school.

I shouldn't have laughed at her, that's obvious. It was horrible of me, but shouldn't she have been happy for me that I had someone pursuing me? Shouldn't she have behaved less like, well, an animal? The ethics of this entire situation still boggle me to this day, but as I had found, morality simply departs when Daphne becomes involved. Right and wrong cease to exist- only what she considers to be good. Even that fluctuates to her, in order to suit her needs. Who needs someone like that anyway?

Right?

* * *

(Since it's the summer now, I'll try and keep these updates fairly frequent. If you've any comments, complaints, suggestions, secret hopes and desires, please let me know. Feedback is pretty much my BFFL. Thanks for reading!) 


	5. Chapter 5

**Splinched**

The Life and Times of Tracey Davis

_Chapter Five_

By Granny Adams

**D**espite much protestation on my part, the days soldiered on quite slowly that month. Actively ignoring someone really takes it toll- as does analyzing potential companions. The pact I made to myself that night, 'New friends, or certain death' never strayed far from my thoughts. Naturally, Pansy and I were "still on good terms", or whatever the hell that meant. It was counterfeit, and she and I both knew it. However it seemed convenient to continue acting as though I thought she was wonderful. It was obvious where her allegiance really lie. I wasn't blind after all. I could see Pansy and Daphne talking together, giggling, whispering: the entire 'we're best mates' act. I won't lie, it was a tad infuriating. Actually, it was repulsive.

For once in my entire life, however, I found that course-work came more easily to me. I suppose when you have nothing else to do, education isn't a terrible alternative. And so, I wrote my papers dutifully, and studied occasionally for that short period at the beginning of the year. At my lowest point, things seemed to be looking up, in a different way. Though, I reminded myself, I was no closer to finding friends or a love interest and therefore, there was no real success.

* * *

"I still don't see the Crab Nebula," said my Astronomy partner one evening. The sky had just darkened completely, and the moon was no where to be seen. It was perfectly cloudless, a bit of a brisk wind blew; there were perfect stargazing conditions. 

"It's.. Well, you see, it's-" I mumbled, leafing through my Astronomy text while he was occupied peering into the telescope.

At that time, it didn't help my "newly-found focus on education" when Theodore Nott was assigned my partner in Astronomy. It also didn't help that I found joy in making him think that I was a great Astronomy-buff. I'll admit that it was slightly manipulative of me, but saying that I actually fooled him would be an insult to his intelligence. I suspect that he knew all along, and was simply humoring me. Nevertheless, I took on this role with alarming fervor.

"Tracey-" I looked up immediately, and found him drawing slowly away from the Telescope. "Can I ask you something?" He remained staring out into the distance, his profile illuminated by the flaming torch that sat by the doorway leading back into the castle. Something inside me leaped, and then nestled quickly back into its place; I regained my composure.

"Yes?" I told him, my eyebrows rose. He broke into a smile and absently scratched the back of his head.

"Don't look so concerned, it's nothing, really." I nodded as my curiosity piqued. He turned to me, and I had to choke back a flood of laughter. There was a vivid black ring around his right eye and in my mind, I was reeling. Faints of my internal laughter began to surface. I kept stony face- a rapidly splintering stone, that is- until I couldn't help but snigger.

"What?" He furrowed his eyebrows, further spreading the ink around his eyes. I clasped my hand over my mouth as the laughter became audible, and I could practically feel the dirty looks upon my back.

"You have ink on your face," I told him once I could speak. His concern turned to bemusement, and he reached up to feel his eye. Once his fingertips came back with a black stain, he broke into a smile and gave a hearty laugh. A rain of shushing emanated from all around, but that only further incensed us. I turned back to look, and several other people had that same ink ring around their eyes. Our laughter increased, though more furious and strangled as we turned our backs to them.

He gave me a sly smile, looked up and raised his finger, as if a sudden rain was just about to fall. Then, a few moments later, we heard a scream and a snarl as other people began to realize that they'd been inked. We simply couldn't contain ourselves, and I laughed harder than I had in recent memory. Through gasps for breath and all the commotion, I managed to tell him, "I saw Peeves coming away from the tower earlier!"

By then, Professor Sinistra had been alerted to the mass hysteria that was now overtaking her class. She ushered everyone back inside the castle and commanded that those who were unclean should go wash off, and that class was dismissed. Absolutely fuming, she tore down the stairs ahead of us, muttering under her breath wildly.

"If I said that I wouldn't want to be Peeves right now, would that be at all trite?" He asked me with a Very Serious expression plastered all over his face.

"It might," I told him expertly, matching his weightiness.

"Hm," He thought aloud, "Then in that case it goes without saying."

"I suppose so," I trailed off. That question remained unasked, and I felt the curiosity building again, this time stronger than before. I opened my mouth to speak again, but then closed it. His eyes were elsewhere, following the trace of the walls and the suits of armor as we ambled back to the Common Room. He would ask me when he remembered, I surmised. It wasn't something urgent, after all.. But that terrible little part of me wondered if it was. That terrible, hopeful part of me ran laps around my mind, filling it with thoughts like: "Tracey, have you heard that I am dating Millicent? If so, that is a complete and utter untruth. How could I ever fancy such a cow?" I quickly stopped myself before my delusions became too advanced; knowing my luck it would probably be more akin to "Can I borrow a quill?"

His thoughts seemed to consume him for the entire walk, and not a word was spoken until he bid me "goodnight" as he head for his dormitory and I mine. I groaned and slumped against the door before entering my dorm, knowing that this question would plague me until I was finally asked. Just then, I could hear muted words coming from inside, and so I pressed my ear against the door, straining to hear.

"—BLOODY TURNCOAT –I –––– BITCH!"

It was Daphne's voice. All the emotions, the happiness and curiousity, fell into the pit of my very soul, and I only knew hatred. She was poisoning them all against me, I knew it. There was nothing beneath her; she was set and bound to _ruin_ me. What lies had she spread already? And more importantly, who would be so dense as to believe her?

Tomorrow, I would have to find out. It would all come back to me anyway, knowing how 'reliably' secrets were kept around school.

I bit my lip, stood up, and opened the door hastily. Pansy and Millicent sat, turned in to face Daphne on her bed. Thank goodness that Daphne's back was to the entrance, because I wouldn't have wanted her to see the hurt expression that unknowingly had crept onto my face. The curtains were drawn in Francine's bed- at least she was _decent_ enough to not participate in such cruel activities. I rushed to my four-poster, yanking a night gown from the open trunk and then practically falling over myself hurrying to the bathroom. I shut myself in, locked the door, and could hear the whispers resuming shortly afterward.

* * *

(Hello, good reader! It's been a while since I've picked up the proverbial Writer's Pen mostly because I've been having some kind of crisis involving the English language. Hopefully writing this will be therapeutic for me, as well as entertaining for you. Feedback is adored, as always.) 


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